Blind Endeavours Pts 8&9: Symphony 40 in G minor & Concerto 2 violins
by Wiz-Chic
Summary: Parts 8 and 9. Madeline's fate takes its toll on Sherlock as his friends and close ones rally to distract him and attempt to get him to move on in any way possible- even by force and trickery. But she remains in his subconscious constantly- and while when she was close she served as a strength- from afar and away from him, she serves as his weakness.
1. A Madman and His Friends

**Here is the full title of this part since I couldn't fit it in the title section seeing as 8 and 9 are both in the same part: Blind Endeavours- Part 8: Symphony #40 in G minor. Accompanying materials are in my profile as usual!**

**OUTLINE: This particular part is very different. It's five chapters- and they are all just going bit by bit during one night. **

**#221back! I'm so excited!**

* * *

**Two Weeks Later.**

**Friday. **

**5:37pm. **

It took a week for Sherlock to recover from tobacco poisoning… and a week for Lestrade and John to find a case interesting enough for him to take.

So there the two men stood- the doctor and the detective inspector, as they watched Sherlock soak up the case like it was a fresh bouquet of roses- which it might as well have been considering there was a brutally murdered dead body for him to inspect.

"Wonderful…" Sherlock mumbled brightly with a light smile as he noticed the light needle punctures along the body's hip-bone. "Magnificent."

John sighed loudly while Lestrade winced- Sherlock's brass happiness regarding the dead still managed to make them a little uncomfortable.

"So! Sherlock…" Lestrade began casually as Sherlock stood, slapping his latex gloves off. "Plans tonight?"

Sherlock's eyes slyly went between an innocent looking John and Lestrade. "_No…,_ Why? Not another one of your plans to make me '_social'_ again, John?"

"No, not possible Mary and I have dinner plans tonight."

"Well," Lestrade coughed, shifting from one leg to the other, "I was wondering… You know, its been a few weeks since Madeline's wedding and you and I haven't had a good talk about how you were… you know… feeling."

Sherlock looked at Lestrade as if he'd gone completely off his rocker.

"Are you high, detective inspector?" Sherlock asked observing his pupils for certain dilation that wasn't there.

"No! I just think we're sort of _mates _now-" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, his head and neck elongating in utter shock. "And we should try to talk thinks out… you know…"

Awkward silence fell over the three men. John looked between Sherlock- who was absolutely speechless and seemingly in legitimate shock (probably could use a blanket at that point) to Greg who's arms were cross and his statement seemingly hard to say but sincere.

Sherlock through his gloves down, "I'm leaving this madness… morons." He mumbled as he marched out of the doors of the morgue towards the laboratory, pushing the double doors opened as his coat blew behind him.

With an impressed raise of an eyebrow John turned to Greg Lestrade who was twirling his wedding ring around his finger as he smiled satisfied.

"Not bad." John said with a nod, "Mates? Wow. That certainly threw him for a loop."

"Who knew Sherlock could be so vulnerable?"

"I know… It's like a weird reminder he's still human. All he did in 221b is sulk and burn everything he owned of her. And then when he was done with that he went on a rampage through London, bought up all of the Chanel Mademoiselle perfume's that he could find- because that's what she wore, and burned those too. …I managed to sneak one to Mary but he could smell her spraying it- seeing as we live next door to him, and he broke into our house and drained that one too." John sighed, "This is bad. This is like an itch he can't scratch with Madeline- it's driving him crazy beneath the surface. We need to do well tonight."

"Right well," Lestrade said with a shrug towards the body on the slab, "You don't think that it effect's his work, do you?"

"Oh gosh no, the whole taxi ride over her was detailing how he hoped the body would be placed. He's excited to be back. It's finally something he has to look forward to."

"Well then… poor sod. This should distract him for the night at least. Make him forget her even for a little. "

"Let's hope." John sighed looking to the doors that were still lightly swinging into place, "That's grief for you."

* * *

Molly Hooper sat in the lab, large glasses on as she dripped the drops of blood into the desired tube- she jumped squirting the rest of it onto the floor in a panicked accident as the door to the lab flew open- cutting through the silence as Sherlock Holmes barged in on a mission.

"Your husband needs to be checked for turrets."

"Um, sorry?" Molly smiled lightly.

Sherlock stood up straight in the utmost offense with a look on his face that said _as if she doesn't know._ "Mates? …**_Mates?_**"

"…What about it?"

"It's what he called himself and myself."

"Well, you are really-"

"Always implied, never expressed. What is going on here, Molly Hooper?"

Molly lifted her glasses up her nose nervously, "What do you mean?"

"Don't you play games with me…" Sherlock's voice rumbled deep in his chest as he shook his head with a light smile, his eyes burning holes through her nervous face, "I can read you like a book Molly Hooper, something is happening- I smell a set up."

"Do you? Well…" Molly fidgeted, "I…"

"Spill."

"Well I-"

"NOW."

"Everyone thinks you need to open up about what happened with Madeline or else you're going to go mad for the rest of your life." Molly blurted, receiving only a sigh and roll of his eyes from Sherlock. "But it's true, Sherlock! You didn't turn to drugs- that's good. But now you've gone literally insane- more than usual. In a few years you'll have 12 cats and a collection of bugs."

"Bee's are a separate insect." Sherlock mumbled beneath his breath to himself, knowing what she said was to be right."

"Just… listen," She smiled lightly, "Why don't I finish up here and we can have a talk- Um, hello? Sherlock, where are you going…"

But it was too late. The moment '_we can have a talk'_ left Molly's lips, Sherlock had turned and was out the door on yet another escape route away from the people who cared about him and the help they felt he needed.

Once the _ding _was heard indicating Sherlock was far away and into the elevator, Picking up her phone Molly texted John:

_Just finished. Went perfect. You're right the topic of Madeline still manages to distract him well enough to deduce anything else. I hope he moves on or something… I can't believe this actually worked! But I doubt he'll make it to the end of the night without killing someone or something. He's gone mad, hasn't he? ~MH._

* * *

**_Hmmm... wonder what's brewing..._**


	2. Done Deal

**6:37pm. **

**221b. **

Sherlock Holmes's feet took two steps at a time as he headed towards his flat. Probably the quickest he ever wanted to leave a corpse behind due to the living people surrounding it. He'd texted Lestrade the details of the murder in the taxi, hoping that would keep him occupied and away- and it did, but it unfortunately gave John free reign to go as he pleased. His knocking at the front door of 221b (which was locked) was incessant as Sherlock kicked off his shoes with a smirk on his face; locking the front door was rare and John knew it was for him.

His growl could be heard all the way to the detective, who sat back in his chair with a sigh, listening as John entered his own flat next door. Mary and John had been happy that Sherlock had helped find the flat next door to him for them- but it had also given Sherlock a peace of mind as he now knew everything about them just by being within close proximity which filled up a good amount of his time.

Sherlock knew the annoying amount of care the people that surrounded him had. Today was his first day out of the flat and with human contact and the fear for him to lash out was extreme- and may have already happened that morning as John got a coffee before heading to the morgue and Sherlock deduced the teenage girl working behind the stand had stolen money from the cash register- but that was regardless. Their annoying habits did manage to distract Sherlock- but now that he was away from them- he could go back into his comfort zone of waning in self pity as he threw darts at the picture of David- Madeline's _husband _(how he detested that word), that had been taken at the wedding that Sherlock had stolen from Mycroft's files and now was sitting above the couch with multiple push-pins cutting through the grooms face.

Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned his head back- this was the rest of his life in a moment. His friends running after him to make sure he didn't go mad and him running away from them in between case to case and lunch and tea time with John everyday as he locks himself away only to be taken out for use- like an ironing board or a lightbulb…

Yes, yes, this life would do for Sherlock Holmes. If he was supposed to spend the rest of it without Madeline and John next door married off- then the lock of 221b that had rarely been used before would now be put to full use. It would keep everyone out. And that was how Sherlock liked it.

"Madness, isn't it?" A soft delicate voice said.

Sherlock's eyes shot open.

"This weather we're having." Mrs. Hudson observed as she sat in John's chair, her eyes glazed over as she was looking out the window. "Warm one minute and rainy the next… but that's London in June for you."  
"Mrs. Hudson…" Sherlock's voice dropped into a warning tone as he eyed her, worried about his own action's he would take if she didn't leave him alone soon. He'd forgotten she'd occupied the flat below. "You should leave now."

"Oh come on now Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson reprimanded without a care in the world. "I barely get to see you. Between you smoking up a storm in here, your rampages to get rid of anything remotely like poor Madeline, and this case now- I never get to see you. We've never really talked about… well you know… _her._"

"Mrs. Hudson- I am advising you to desist-"

"So sad really. I mean, imagine how she feels having to live out the rest of her days with some stranger- oh well I suppose he's not a stranger, I heard they were quite good friends as children. …Sort of sweet if you ask me. I do hope she's enjoying her honeymoon though- my goodness its been years since she's had- well you know- _sex,_ I remember when you found her goody –drawer. You filled this flat up with what-have-you's making my place look like an adult store. Though good for her, no one wants to die in a dry spell. Unless you two did it before she left- did you? Oh Sherlock, I hope you did-"

" !" Sherlock's hands slammed down on the arms of his seat making her jump, his eyes wide and his jaw grinding as he spoke, "WILL YOU DESIST?!"

"Oh alright," Mrs. Hudson brushed off with a wave of her wrist as if this were an everyday conversation and occurrence. "You and you temper. You're going to have to talk about her sometime you know-"

"Don't you have somewhere to _be?_"

"No, actually, my whole evening is free! You as well, again? What do you say I make you some scones in your own kitchen tonight- hm?"

Sherlock couldn't think of anything he wanted less in the world.

Standing up he grabbed his coat, "No, while that is slightly more enticing than throwing myself off yet another building- I must decline. I'm going out."

"Oh! Alright then." Mrs. Hudson said with a sigh, "Enjoy yourself."

"I most certainly will." Sherlock ground his teeth as he exited the front door to his own flat where even there he couldn't get any peace.

* * *

Sherlock found himself in a rare public place-a park. Sitting on a bench. Observing the annoying couples as they walked by. He deduced them silently as he once did when he was a teenager. It helped him speed up his deductions at a moments notice. But now it was childsplay.

Regardless, it was the only place he could enjoy silence.

"Hello dear brother."

"Oh, Christ." Sherlock groaned with a roll of his eyes.

"Enjoying the view?" Mycroft said distastefully, perching his hands at the top of his umbrella. "I dislike parks immensely.

"Wonderful. Feel free to exit this one. In fact, I implore you to."

"Your group of _friends _are rather annoying." Mycroft sighed, "Do tell John to stop messaging me to get involved with your personal life."

Sherlock's eyes widened as he looked at his brother, "He would never."

"He did, I'm afraid, dear brother. Quite annoying, if you ask me. But that's what you get for making _friends. _As I told you before, caring is not an advantage- and it certainly isn't one for me when your foolish emotions begin to effect my life as well. To be quite certain I have no interest in divulging in your emotions towards the girl that you once had but slipped right through your grasp- especially since you were kind enough to steal her file for her wedding, including a copy of her certificate."

"Never can be too certain when these silly affairs go through." Sherlock mumbled, deducing the runner with a bad case of shin-splints as they passed by.

"Allow me to implore _you _to perhaps take comfort in your close group. Myself excluded, of course."

"How grand."

"I thought this was what you wanted when you began creating so many allies? To no longer be alone? …Or does it not matter now that she's no longer here and John's married off? That no matter how many people you're surrounded by, unless she's there- you might as well just be by yourself."

"Psycho-emotional-analysis doesn't suit you. Feel free to keep those to yourself." Sherlock stood up with a roll in his eyes as he walked away.- -

Only to stop abruptly a few feet later.

It hit Sherlock like the most obvious sign, and anger filled him. He didn't know if it was of the fact itself- or the fact that this deduction had slipped past his sense's because it had everything to do with _her_, but there was no excuse. He had slipped.

Sherlock turned to look at his brother- livid and utterly speechless as he shook with rage, Mycroft's sly smile didn't help.

"First Lestrade, then Molly, then Mrs. Hudson and it took all the way for myself for it to hit you… tisk tisk brother, you're slipping. She still clouds your judgments. It's far too simple to get you to go where we wish you to go… How easily played you are on your annoyances."

There was only one person left that hadn't driven Sherlock out of his comfort- _JOHN._

This was all leading to something- to somewhere, and Sherlock wanted- no, _needed_ to stop it.

He would go to John's at 221A, and give him a very lively piece of his mind.

* * *

Mycroft watched as his brother heatedly strode back towards in the direction of his flat and John's flat- knowing any altercation with Mycroft would only delay the inevitability of their grand plan.

Taking out his phone, Mycroft pressed 3 and speed dialed John.

"He's on his way. Just as planned. And if you already haven't- may I suggest moving anything expensive out of the way of the doorway within the next 30 seconds."

* * *

Sherlock Holmes burst through John and Mary Watson's front door, the vase on the stand next to it dropping and shattering. John hung up his phone as he stared at Sherlock with a look of uneasiness, with Mary standing next to him she wanted no part of it, "I'll just be leaving then-"

"NO." Sherlock shouted. "YOU. STAY. I don't think for one second this was all your plan John. Have a nice talk with my _brother _just now, hm? Something of this caliber takes knowing my greatest weak spots and annoyances- John I attest that to you. Mary for contacting everyone, and lastly- Mycroft for having the idea itself. But the question still remains in itself- what is this all for? You'd think I have no clue by now- but you're quite wrong. Seeing as that Mary wears Claire de-lune perfume and John wears no female ones that I know of- the particular scent of Burberry Brit is behind me and by the one strand of hair on the ground I assume she is blonde, about 30 years of age, bright eyes given by her choice of hair colour- oh and I have absolutely NO interest!" Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs, "So, before this gets any worse and I create my own crime scene by ending us all here and now, will you please tell the department store make-up counter employee that Mary shops at and has made acquaintances with over the past few months- that I would detest to be in her company for a minute more."

The room went silent. Sherlock's iciness did not deter- nor did he turn around to see said woman he'd just insulted so much to the point in which he didn't care enough about her to say it to her face yet still in her knowing presence.

John, it seemed, was unfettered by Sherlock's actions and words. He stood firmly and responded simply, "We all got you here, I knew there was no way else to prove to you what I have to say now. You have a few choices Sherlock: Go to Scotland yard or go find a case- Lestrade will be there and he'll talk about your feelings. Go to the morgue and Molly will be there insisting her shoulder is the one you should cry on. Go to your flat and Mrs. Hudson will be there to talk to you about- well, actually I told her to talk to you about Madeline's cooking and hobbies but I get the sense she might have switched subjects. Or go anywhere else- and I will use your brother to find you- and I know his involvement makes that all the worse for you. Or- lastly, you can go out on _one date _with Daisy-" Sherlock rolled his eyes at hearing her silly name, "and myself and Mary, try and be descent, and we'll never bother you again regarding Madeline or any of it."

Sherlock stood silent and glared at his friend, realizing the predicament he was in. Mycroft had been right- and he hated to admit it. This was the exact consequence of having people who cared about you. He saw it as a great annoyance.

"This is only for one night, what do you expect to accomplish John?"

"More than you think."

"To distract me for one night…"

"Enough to last you a lifetime of no more mentioning anything you don't want mentioned. Just agree, and we've all agreed to leave it alone."

Sherlock weighed his options. He'd done more for less regarding his own comfort and the priceless agreement of being allowed a life alone in his own darkness.

"Done."

The best friends shook.

The creak of the sofa behind Sherlock sent a deep shudder up his spine as he wished nothing less than this night to end before it even began. What sort of a woman stayed after hearing everything he just had to say and _still _agree to go on a date with him that night?

His curiosity got the best of him. He'd have to see her sooner or later.

Turning around Sherlock took stock of the surprisingly attractive female standing before him. She was tall (almost to exactly his height), long blonde hair, bright eyes, pale skin, a rounded face, and a small chested wide-hipped yet thin physique.

In other words- physically, the exact opposite of Madeline. Now the dreaded night that was impossible had become barely bearable for Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock was pleasantly surprised with John and Mary's choice- she reminded him nothing of Madeline. Had she, he wouldn't have made it past the front door- they had figured that much out.

"I'm Daisy," She smiled widely with amusement, "Mary told me you were a bit of a spitfire. …I like that."

Clearing his throat Sherlock looked around, placing his hands behind his back- his manner instilled in him since childhood coming forth. He held out his arm which she took by the elbow with John and Mary putting on their jackets, watching them closely.

"Dinner, I assume?"

* * *

**Comment if you please!**


	3. The Cleverness of John Watson

**7:02 pm. **

**A Far Too Fancy Restaurant.**

Needless to say, Daisy was the exact opposite of Madeline. Not just physically (Tall, blonde, blue eyed versus Madeline's short, petite, brown-haired-and-eyed-look), but Daisy also worked at the makeup counter at the counter around the block from Baker street. But what was more shocking, and more interesting- was how much Daisy was like Sherlock.

Madeline and Sherlock had always been polar opposites- an unlikely improbable match that those who surrounded them knew would either end up in one murdering the other- or in love. The latter (thankfully) was what happened, but it was also incredulous yet made all the sense in the world. Daisy, however, was shockingly similar… to Sherlock.

During appetizers she had expressed that the only reason she worked at the makeup counter was for the pleasure of making more 'ordinary' people more bearable to look at. That and she had plenty of fun analyzing their lives through their skin patterns on their faces. More than that- when the appetizers arrived (oysters), Daisy declined indicating she barely had an appetite for food and at least wanted to save room for a few bites for the main course.

Sherlock eyed her attire as they sat next to one another across from John and Mary. Her dress was a plum purple that went down to her knees yet had very thin straps on the top. It wasn't unappealing to Sherlock and surprisingly it was a good choice in his eyes.

_Much better than that pink disaster Madeline wore our first time out… aesthetically at least, given the ratio's of fashion acceptability, Daisy's is an 8 while Madeline's choice wasn't even on the scale as it was in its own world of strange._

John's eyes continuously stayed on Sherlock the whole time observing him in worry- wondering if at any moment he was going to open his mouth and manage to make the hard-felt Daisy actually cry. But instead Sherlock sat back and observed as Mary talked to Daisy- and mainly watched the food come and go while staying silent and not touching a morsel. It seemed Sherlock was keeping his word- he would endure just to not have to hear any of his friends try to sweet-talk him into discussing his emotions and thoughts about Madeline.

John almost regretted doing this to his friend as he watched him. Sherlock must have been feeling quite a bit that he kept stored inside and silent- and it must have been horrific that he agree to a date in order to shut everyone up. John (as much as he despised anything regarding expressing emotions- almost as much as Sherlock), wanted his friend to tell him what he thought rather than attempt to be left alone and dig himself deeper and deeper into darkness. Sherlock Holmes had a long life (hopefully) ahead, and John didn't want him to spend it only with his heart stuck in one piece of time. And when they'd get the call that Madeline had finally been killed in the recent future- John didn't want to think of what would happen to Sherlock Holmes then.

"And _then" _Daisy continued with her story about how she got her incompetent manager fired. "I kept a thorough journal about whereabouts matched with crosschecking the dates and times on the surveillance- and then I got her fired!" Daisy smiled, "But she really was so awful, stealing from the store like that."

"How horrible," Mary agreed, "People like that ought to be stopped."

Daisy turned her bright blue eyes to Sherlock and placed her hand on his knee, rubbing lightly. He raised an eyebrow at her as he looked down at her smiling face, "Don't you think so Sherlock?"

Sherlock observed her face, her dilated pupils, her suggestive smile- and the ever-telling hand on his knee, his eyes looked down at her curiously with some amusement. Taking a deep breath with his eyebrow raised Sherlock's eyes didn't leave hers as he declared, "I'm out for a smoke."

Then he pulled out his chair with a loud _creek, _grabbing his coat,and exited the table.

* * *

Taking a deep drag as the cool night air passed over his skin, Sherlock exhaled the smoke watching the empty London street. Surprisingly, this wasn't terrible. Daisy was surprisingly dark and sinister- two traits Sherlock related quite simply to.

_What am I doing… _Sherlock closed his eyes and shook his head to knock some sense into it. _The door opened and closed with Madeline. She was the exception. I'm not interested in Daisy! She would be nothing more than a distraction! _

_Hmm… a distraction doesn't sound awful. The tobacco poisoning only went so far. _

_And I can't go back to drugs- I promised Madeline with my stupid sentimentality. _

_Smoking's not doing the trick. _

_…and I haven't precisely experienced sexual idiocy while sober. _

_That would be new. _

_And a good distraction to keep my mind off of Madeline and her moron for a husband who's death I have plotted at least in 37 different ways. _

_Cases have been lackluster lately. Apparently criminals take summers off. _

_Yes… this would be a effective transition. _

_And Daisy seems practical. If I were to propose this sort of an agreement she would be in agreement. Her stupid attraction seems to be 82% sexually based and only 12% intellectual with a 6% margin for boredom. _

The tips of Sherlock's fingers began to tingle with heat as his cigarette had ran out and was mostly ash. Throwing it beneath his shoe Sherlock took his last exhale of smoke.

It was in that moment that Sherlock realized something- John was right. He had succeeded. And he had accomplished more than Sherlock thought would be achievable.

Sherlock Holmes knew facts, science- John knew people. He knew their feelings. And he had used his greatest strength matched with his knowledge of Sherlock to find him a girl he could _actually _find _some _sort of interest in. He had managed what was already nearly impossible- to find Sherlock Holmes a female more-than-friend-type-companion that he didn't want to kill or wasn't interested in.

1 was improbable.

2 was impossible.

Not that Sherlock _felt _anything for Daisy. No. Quite the opposite. He felt no emotion towards her- which in this case (or as Sherlock would argue- all cases), was a benefit.

Straightening his back to go back into battle, Sherlock turned around towards the restaurant. The night was still young. He concluded to wait and not make a decision until it was over. He'd know by then where his loyalties lied, though he already had a logical conclusion as to where they would land in the end.


	4. Decisions, Decisions

**8:45 **

**London Pub**

John and Mary sat at a nearby table staring at the counter with open mouths and utter disbelief.

This was happening. It was really happening.

Mary was in shock. John was horrified… and slightly nauseous at the sight.

They hadn't even expected this. They hadn't expected much at all to say the least. But this… this was…

_Terrifying. _

"…Is this happening or have I had one too many to drink?" Mary inquired. "Am I hallucinating? Did Sherlock drug us?"

"No… I don't _think _so. " John confirmed yet still unsure himself. "but I… I can't be sure. Mary I saw this happen once and this might be even stranger. "

"Who? Madeline?"

"No. Janine."

"Oh right, that was freaky. But I don't get it you lived with Madeline and Sherlock for years, you didn't see it once?"

"Remember they weren't together until the last year and surprisingly no, all I saw were weird mind games they used to play. He'd make her a sandwich and watch her eat it, she would let him experiment on her bellybutton- it was weird but it made sense. Yet- no intimacy. Other than a couple times Madeline punched Sherlock for various reasons-"

"Well that's to be expected-"

"Of course, but this, no. And with Daisy!"

_"With Daisy._" Mary shook her head in awe. "Wow, look at her go though."

"I know. You think she'll come up for air?"

"I'm not sure. She might have to eventually."

"Unless that's Sherlock's plan, to get her to pass out?"

"I don't know, she's seems to be doing pretty well at the moment. "

"…"

"…"

"This is like a bloody car crash and I can't look away."

"It's a good month of therapy."

"Month? …Years, more like."

* * *

**8:26pm**

**19 minutes ago. **

Sherlock, Daisy, John and Mary entered the crowded pub looking around for a table to suit four. Well- everyone but Sherlock was looking. Daisy had already latched herself on his arm and spotted a table that only suited two.

"Oh, Mary!" Daisy exclaimed, "Look, why don't you and John take that table right over there and Sherlock and I here can sit right up on the counter-"

"But-" Sherlock began to protest- but it was too late, Mary had already forced John, who looked back at Sherlock with a look of apology that met Sherlock's frightened expression, towards the table.

"Come on, Sherly." Daisy giggled leading them to the empty two spots at the counter.

Taking his seat Sherlock felt that a very strong drink would do the trick- but he also knew that inebriation would lessen his façade he had on at the moment of politeness- and that was his one ticket to a quicker night plus the added bonus of self-induced-loneliness.

As Daisy took her seat next to him- she managed to press her small yet persistent chest against his arm as she slid onto the stool before ordering herself a white wine.

"And you, mate?" the barman asked Sherlock, who rose an eyebrow at the use of the informal title he never received.

"Soda water, please."

"Oh come on," Daisy leaned onto Sherlock's side, "You're so wound up- loosen up a bit." She smiled, placing her hand on his knee to which Sherlock only looked down at it with an inquisitive brow as his water was placed in front of him.

"I'm quite fine, Thank you."

"So, Sherlock, Mary was telling me you just got out of a pretty complicated relationship."

"No." Sherlock demanded casually as he took a sip of his drink.

"No?"  
"No."

"No you didn't get out of a complicated relationship?"

"No. No that's not on the list of discussion."

"Ohh, alright. Was it that bad, really?"

Sherlock pursed his lips, "I don't repeat myself."

"Right, yes, sorry-" Daisy chastised herself with a laugh, "I'm just curious. The mysterious Sherlock Holmes in a relationship? It was unheard of. She must have done you in good."

"She is not at fault, if that's what you're convinced of."

"Ah." Daisy nodded, almost seemingly disappointed at his response. "well, people are in our past for a reason-"

"Not immediately assuming a negative one."

"Well people are in our present always for a reason-"

"Most likely a negative one."

"You're not very positive, are you?"

"Does my enthusiastic, jolly demeanor indicate otherwise?" Sherlock asked sarcastically with the raise of an eyebrow. Daisy broke out into a fit of laughter at his dry humour. He watched her curiously and found her laughter to be genuine. She even seemed to find him funny.

He didn't know if that pleased him or upset him.

"…So how far is Baker Street from here?" Daisy's fingers trailed along the ridges on his knee with one hand as she perched herself against the counter, her blonde strands falling against her blue eyes.

As she sat in the seat one leg was crossed over the other tightly. Sherlock didn't need to be a detective to know that sex was clearly on her mind. Sherlock's bright eyes examined her face and body position.

"…It's on the other side of London."

Leaning forwards with a smile on her face, Daisy wasted no time and laced her hands behind his head and pushed herself onto his stool, sitting with his knees in between her hips.

"We'll just make do with this."

Tugging on his hair, Daisy pulled Sherlock's lips onto hers before he could even get a word out.

The pub was not crowded, it had very few occupants and only two seemed to be stumped at the sight before them as Daisy continued to go at Sherlock's mouth like it was her favourite dessert.

Sherlock's thoughts were ever-present. Though her hate of people, social situations- and basically everything that Sherlock disliked kept him from a dislike of her- his thoughts did not cease- not did he stop her.

…Yet at the same time he did not reciprocate.

He simply sat, his mouth forced open by her own, lost in thought as she devoured his lips.

_At least she's wearing chapstick. _

_This is strange? _

_No. No question- this is strange. _

_This is nothing like kissing Madeline- _

_Aside from the obvious fact that it is not Madeline, I am also not reciprocating… perhaps I should try it for a moment…._

_…_

**_Ow! Jesus. _**

_My lip will be swollen tomorrow. _

_She bit it. Like an animal. _

_Perhaps I shouldn't reciprocate again. It might end in the demise of my mouth. _

_Yes. Good plan. _

_…I wonder when she'll stop. _

_I thought this would be more exciting. All calculations pointed to a temporary physical fling with her would be beneficial on all counts and also somewhat enjoyable as a new substance. _

_Or it seemed like a substance with Madeline. _

_Ah, yes, the x factor- Madeline is X and without X the equation does not work. _

_Oh Christ I've gone soppy. _

_I hope someone kills me. _

_Or I'll just hold my breath in my nose and pass out. _

_I can hear John now if he knew my thoughts. Lecturing me about love and how physical pleasure it not separate from it when love truly exists blah blah Christ he can get annoying. _

_Speaking of which, I can feel him and Mary's stares boring through us like lasers. _

_If that's the case, I hope perhaps it will knock Daisy into a coma. She's still at it. _

_Surprised to see she still has trick's though. Calculations for time 2 minutes and 26 seconds still counting. She must have good practice at this. _

_This reminds me of kissing Janine. _

_Except she was better. _

_And she had olive skin. _

_Dark eyes. _

_Dark hair.  
Yes, better. _

_More attractive. _

_…Or at least by my tastes. _

_Regardless of the fact that Madeline has those same traits although looks entirely different than Janine yet still manages to look better than Daisy- _

_This is off topic. Don't forget where you are. _

_HOLY FUCKING CHRIST- _

_Oh that's her bum. She's quite full back there. Madeline's bum was always rather small. But her large bosom's made an impact. _

_She's getting rather close now, isn't she? _

_I should pull away. This is having a neutral effect. And I am killing for a glass of water._

_I'm surprised she hasn't passed out yet. Perhaps I can ask her if she would permit me to experiment her lung capacity…_

_Though she might take that the wrong way. She is increasingly sexual by the moment. _

_I must pull away. _

_Options: _

_Pull away and declare she should come to BakerStreet or I to her flat (most likely majority decorated from an over-priced boutique that would annoy me just at the sight of it.). _

_Or- Pull away and end the night as is with her most likely sending nude pictures within the week and vulgar text messages to follow. Easily ignored but still leaves a door open for possibility should I desire a distraction when Tobacco is not strong enough._

_Or- continue to allow her to assault my mouth which will result in her passing out in roughly 3.7 minutes. _

_But then I'd have to carry her home at John's insistence. Scratch the latter choice._

_I must remember to burn his curtains down later. The way they've decorated 221A is horrific. _

_I must make my choice within the next 10 seconds. John's taken his phone out to take pictures and send to Lestrade. _

_Alright- pull away… NOW-_


	5. Set Stories

**Here it is, the finally for Part 8! Enjoy. Sorry I was going back and forth about how I should end this and I decided to just put it here :) **

* * *

**9:12 pm.**

**Taxi. **

Silence.

Horrid, rational, yet pre-predicted silence.

"…You know you brought this on yourself."

"Yes." Sherlock groaned with a roll in his eyes.

John merely shook his head as he watched Sherlock's head tilt back with the cloth against his nose.

"All you had to do, was keep your mouth shut for the whole night, and in the last hour or so- you just had to open that big trap of yours and let all that ego flow out."

"Facts are facts John-"

"That's not the point."

"She _did_ have a bum implant!"

"Not **necessary to express it**- _Sherlock_!" John spat. "You sabotaged this! The deal is off!"

Sherlock shrugged carelessly as he looked out the window. Silence filled the taxi once more.

"…You're going to have to move on, Sherlock." John warned. "I'm sure Mycroft's informed you that Moriarty's old terror cells have moved into the US. They know where she is. It's only a matter of time… and Moran has escaped so I'm certain he's leading the death march towards her." Outside the rain began to pour heavily from the night London sky, the loudness of the window-wipers indicating that summer was officially over. "It's over, Sherlock. With Madeline, I mean. I miss her all the time. She was like the sister I always wanted. But it's over."

"I'm quite aware, John, but me and hers …_relationship, _is not the same as a brother and sister type." Sherlock said roughly yet quietly as he looked out the taxi cab window, beginning to open up. "You have Mary."

"Well, I'm here aren't I? Don't I count in your life?"

"Don't be stupid John. You're settled in a life you want. I'm settled in a life where nothing satisfies me or gives me reason to wake up in the morning aside from the rare usual case…"

John looked at his friend, surprised at the omission.

John's plan had worked. Or rather- its endgame had worked. Sherlock had opened up. The whole while Sherlock thought they had wanted him to move on and find another girl, but John knew Sherlock Holmes and he knew Madeline was the exception- instead he had to get him to open up or his feelings would swallow him whole. …but that did not mean John was comforted by Sherlock's words.

"**Not** that my reason to wake up in the morning was _her_-" Sherlock corrected quickly and insistently, "I'm not quite that disgustingly sentimental yet. However… it did help. Now nothing is in place anymore as it should be."

John stared at his friend silently and replied with as much logic and wisdom he could muster. "…Well how do you know that? Maybe this is the place things should be in? I mean, they are the way they are for a reason. We both know Madeline wanted to leave so she could at least live a little bit of the life she always wanted-"

"That's not why she left." Sherlock mumbled quietly, John's head turned to Sherlock like a shot.

"…Sorry?"

John continued to look at Sherlock in silence until he finally turned to face him. The look on Sherlock's face was one of obviousness and the ever so annoying _Of course you must have known this, John_ Expression. But clearly, John didn't. No one did. (Other than Mycroft and Madeline of course). Yet John was exceedingly interested to hear what it was that his friend had deemed so important to keep this secret to himself that was the entire basis for Madeline leaving the love of her life within the last 2 years of it.

"Me." Sherlock said simply with the raise of a brow.

"…Sorry?" John repeated more forcefully, still not understanding.

"She left because of me. Because she knew the more time we spent together, the more attached I'd get… and when that moment of her death would come surely within my presence after a short time- I would self-destruct… like a time-bomb. " John's mouth was agape as he continued to stare at Sherlock who took his time telling the story, speaking it as if it were casual and well known knowledge, obvious news. "In the hospital when Lestrade was stupidly shot with a flesh wound-" Sherlock rolled his eyes with a grown at the memory, "she took me aside and told me she'd tell everyone it was for her own selfish reasons when in fact it was for me and mine."

The silence was deafening.

If ever there were a moment John had ever fully realized and known how far Madeline had gotten under Sherlock's skin- this was it.

He sat, his jaw agape as he watched Sherlock's jaw clench, not even noticing that the taxi had pulled up on Baker Street in front of both of their flats- but both sat in the sound of the rain until Sherlock turned to look at John with a look that could only be described as breaking.

"Leave it at this, John." Sherlock's comment made John realize moving on was not possible. He could never let her go. And she was a marked target- doomed to die, if not in his arms then in his heart. Sherlock didn't know if he was angry at her for leaving or at himself for being so weak that she couldn't stay- but it was something he could not remove from himself- from his mind palace or his blood- no matter how hard he tried or wished it, and John along with everybody else would have to leave it. Because nothing would change. The stories were set. There was no return.

So Sherlock, perhaps for the first time ever, paid the cabbie. They exited the car, the rain drenching them both as it poured heavily. London was dark, dreary and uninviting. So when John walked behind Sherlock to the door of 221B- rather than his own door right next to it- Sherlock was actually happy that he had such an insistent friend.

"Tea?" Sherlock questioned as he pushed the door open, shaking his hair from the water.

"Sure. I smelled Mrs. Hudson's scones from next door this morning… rotten tele?"

Sherlock pursed his lips and nodded as he hung his coat, "Mary won't mind?"

"I think she'll be happy we're both occupied without her considering what just happened-" Sherlock and John chuckled as they headed up the stairs, "- poor poor Daisy…"

"Poor Daisy? Poor my nose!" Sherlock snorted with a smile, joking even though he knew he was wrong, "I almost passed out."

"Yeah, she was really going at it wasn't she?" John inquired with a smile as they reached the top of the stairs, both of them happy for the lighter subject that they could now divulge in, "It was the most traumatizing thing I've ever seen I think. I'm going to need therapy."

Sherlock pushed the door open to the living room, "I don't believe in such nonsense- but the night-sweats will be terrible so I might join-" His voice stopped abruptly, until one word came out forced with air, "_You_…"

John looked at Sherlock's profile curiously. His face had gone pale, his jaw agape, his eyes shocked, and if John dared think it- vulnerable. As if he'd seen a ghost. And it was only when John had looked in front of him towards the window to see that indeed, Sherlock was looking at a ghost.

There Madeline stood, drenched and dripping, a smile on her face, tears on her face, uncertainty in her stance, and her shiny wedding and engagement rings still on her left finger- there was only one statement she could make to cut through the thin air.

"I'm back."

* * *

**Fin part 8. **


	6. Author's Note on Next Chapter

**Hello everyone! **

**I WILL be posting soon! Sorry its taken SO bloody long! I got this job that I've been vying for for a really long time, and now I have all of this work to do lol. So it's a bittersweet thing. **

**HOWEVER- posting WILL be taking place soon. I AM NOT abandoning this story. **

**In fact I've just re-outlined the rest of the series so I'm all good to go. **

**Also, to post faster I'm not using Beta's I think until I get more time, so apologies for the mistakes :/ **

**Wiz-Chic **


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